#csss 2021

“Actually…” Her eyebrows furrow together as Killian runs his tongue along his bottom lip in deep thought. Without a word to her or Will, he throws the car in drive and sets off in the opposite direction of the address she told him.

“What are you doing?” If it had been anyone else, anyone but Killian, she’d be frightened. She’d have pulled out her mace by now and worked a means into stopping the car. Instead, she sits patiently in her seat with her head turned in his direction and the seatbelt digging into her neck.

“Try something new, darling. It’s called trust.”

“I do trust you.”

The lack of hesitation takes them both by surprise. Her mouth drops open as she struggles to build off of her statement and Killian continually glances at her from the side. After a few moments, she shrugs shyly and gives him a small smile.

Will mumbles something along the lines of ‘pathetic’ and falls back into his seat, head lolling towards the window as he views the house lights passing them by.

Never before had she said something like that to another adult with such conviction and she didn’t know how to proceed. Emma doesn’t voice her feelings, that’s not the kind of person she is. Their conversation outside of the toy store already left her feeling raw and vulnerable and her words slipped out of her mouth without any filtering. It’s as close as she can come to laying her heart bare.

Her eyes trace Killian’s tongue as it pokes out his mouth to lick his lips.

He glances at her once more before straightening in his seat, flicking on one blinker as they stop at a red light. “I can read you pretty well, love, and I know you’re still disappointed about your lad not having anything new to open tomorrow.” He shifts in his seat again as the tips of his ears begin to turn pink. “I think I have an idea to remedy that.” She practically melts as he softens his tone and finally looks at her. “If you’ll allow me to help?”

The man sitting across from her continues to amaze her.

Emma doesn’t even need to think. She nods her head and says softly, “Yes.”

They drive in silence for a few minutes, Will ooo-ing and ahhh-ing at various Christmas displays before Emma leans forward.

She smirks at Killian as she flicks the music on, an older man singing about jingle bells wafting from the speakers, her mood vastly improved from earlier. It’s not until they pull onto one of the streets on the outskirts of the city, bordering the city center and the suburbs, that she notices Will perk up in the backseat.

“No way, mate. Don’t do this to me,” he whines, suddenly acting wide awake and sober despite the sway to his positioning. Killian chuckles and shakes his head.

“Yes way. You can’t hide forever.”

“I can bloody well try. I’m not going in.”

“Then you can freeze in the car.”

“It’s fucking cold out! And snowing!”

Killian grins wide into the rearview mirror, catching Will’s eye, and lifts an eyebrow as if daring the other man to fight him. “I guess you’re coming inside then. Aye?”

Will grumbles and crosses his arms as he glares out the window until Killian comes to a stop in front of a small section of shops. It’s a part of the city she hasn’t been before. An ice cream shop, wedding store, therapist’s office, pawn shop, and a comic-book store line one side of the street with a police department – not David’s, that much she knows – across the street with a diner beside it.

Emma waits to ask until everyone is out of the car, Will huffing and puffing the entire time. Nearly all of the shops are dark and closed up for the holiday except for the comic-book store which looks to be having a work party. “Where are we?”

“At the wolf’s den,” Will says angrily, shooting a glare at Killian who only laughs in glee.

“Yeah,” Emma starts, glancing wearily between the two of them. “I’m going to need more than that.”

“Come on, love,” Killian says. His prosthetic comes to the middle of her back and she suppresses her shiver from how good his heat feels so close to her. “Trust me, remember?”

“Yes –”

“You really shouldn’t,” Will cuts in, gaze now turned towards the holiday party. “He’s a scoundrel.”

“Bloody hell,” Killian calls from her side. She leans into his chest as he turns towards Will and she pretends not to notice the way his arm slides along her waist, bringing her closer as well. “Weren’t you just trying to wing-man me an hour ago?”

Will waves the statement away. “You don’t deserve my talents. The lass can do better anyway.”

“I beg your pardon –”

“Guys,” Emma cuts in. “My kid. A present. Before midnight, please.”

They grumble at each other before Killian ushers her to the door of the comic-book shop, opening it for her as Will shrinks into his coat, shoulders raised to his ears. He rips his beanie from his pocket and forces it over his head at such an alarming speed that it nearly makes her laugh.

“Captain!” a velvety voice calls out from across the shop. “Thought you were skipping out on us tonight for the cash flow.”

Emma’s not sure what to expect from the voice. Surely, such an attractive sound belongs to an equally attractive person, but nothing could have prepared her for the gorgeous brunette that walks out of the crowd gathered at the back of the store and right towards them.

It’s been a long time since jealousy held a vicelike grip on her throat but the feeling invades the bubble she’s had with Killian all night.

The woman’s legs are shaped by tight red skinny jeans and she wears a green crop top lined with white fur. A Santa hat sits askew on her head, the perfect match for her blood red lipstick. Dark hair rests in waves down her back and her nails are painted such a deep red it could be mistaken for black. The smile she shoots their way is one Emma could imagine a predator wearing. But who was her prey?

Emma chances a glance at Killian and relaxes instantly at the feel of his prosthetic on her back again. The smile he shoots the woman looks so similar to the patient, kind grin he’d given Henry on their rides. In that brief look, she feels all jealousy shrink away. Not that she had any claim to Killian to start with, but if there’s a possibility… “Aye, but I had much more important matters to attend to. Miss Swan is in need of your expertise, Ruby.”

“Miss Swan?”

Emma struggles to find her voice for a moment, feeling as if she’s been pulled in a million different directions. All she can do is fall back on her instinct to fight. “Don’t listen to him,” she insists. “It’s Emma.”

“Aye, Emma is in need of your expertise.” The amusement in Killian’s voice is enough to earn a narrow-eyed look from her over her shoulder, his grin widening in reaction. His teasing starts to bring her back to herself and she finds breathing slightly easier than it’d been a moment ago. With a roll of her eyes, she faces their newcomer again.

“With what exactly?” Ruby inquires.

“A gift for her boy.” Emma’s cheeks heat up as Ruby’s calculating gaze bounces between herself and Killian. “He’s creative. Writes and draws his own comics. Isn’t that right, Swan?”

She nods furiously in agreement, centering herself on talk of her kid. Talking about Henry is always easy for her. Not that she’s biased or anything but he’s the greatest kid around. She tells Ruby as much. “He’s incredible. A creative genius, honestly. I don’t know how he comes up with half the stuff he does.”

“Huh,” Ruby says, eyeing Emma up and down. What the hell? She doesn’t know why but the urge to defend herself – against what, she’s not even sure – crawls up her throat.

“Huh?” Emma echoes, glancing back at Killian who narrows his gaze at Ruby.

“You’re different,” she elaborates, probing even though her sentence already feels like a statement.

“Ruby…” Killian warns. “Don’t start. Get the pages, lass.”

Ruby merely rolls her eyes and scoffs. “I meant it as a good thing.” She steps towards Emma, looping her arm through Emma’s so fast that all she can do is look at Killian with a bewildered expression. “I like her.” The smile she sends Emma’s way once she faces forward again is friendly and warm and Emma feels the feeble defenses she’d built back up at the other woman’s appearance come down again.

They near the party for a moment, a group of only a handful of people surrounded by alcohol and baked goods with a stereo in the corner playing a Kelly Clarkson song and surrounded by more of the string lights, tinsel, and mistletoe that decorates the rest of the shop.

“Killian’s idea is perfect for your kid, if he’s as creative as you say.”

“Oh, he definitely is.”

“How old is he?” Ruby tosses her a look over her shoulder out of pure curiosity. There’s no judgement to be thrown down based on her answer and Emma doesn’t even feel the urge defend herself as she answers.

“He’s 12.” Ruby grins at this and much like Killian, doesn’t question it further and accepts it for what it is.

“Then this really is perfect and I have to admit, Killian’s a genius. It’s right this way,” Ruby says. Her hand gestures to an alcove in the back corner, opposite the party. The lighting is dimmer there and it’s not as loud. Or at least it isn’t until Ruby yells back to where Killian leans against a counter by the door. “Don’t let Scarlet run away! He still owes me $500! I will get my money and if he keeps running, it won’t be pretty!”

“Fucking hell.”

Emma huffs out a laugh. She has no doubt that Will was attempting to escape out the front door or blend in with the party to avoid paying it. Killian’s chuckle drifts over to their area, confirming her suspicions.

Her eyes scan the shelves before her as Ruby detaches herself. “Stay here,” she orders and Emma shrugs. It’s not like she has any other choice.

While she waits, she continues browsing. Henry’s gotten so many comics over the years from herself, David, and Mary Margaret that she can’t even keep track of what he does and doesn’t have. The last thing she’d want is to try to get him something new only for it to be what he already has. It’s that exact line of thinking that’s gotten her into this situation.

Once she bores of that, she makes a quick perusal of the store. Garland circles the shelves and moldings, string lights hanging from the ceiling throughout the store, and mistletoe is placed throughout. Ruby had navigated the two of them through it without needing to look, clearly an expert at avoiding the tradition when not desired, but the rest of the party on the other side of the store takes glee at the catching each other underneath it.

A particularly loud cheer diverts her attention over to them, watching as two of the people gripe and groan, making a big deal over it before engaging in a short kiss amidst the cajoling party. A flash of black captures her gaze.

Killian’s made his way over to the party. He stands on the edge of it and laughs as a man in a Santa dress suit with a red velour top hat places a Santa hat on his head to match the rest of the store’s occupants. Will slinks between the other party-goers, snatching snacks from the tables around the area and grabbing a plate of lasagna someone abandoned atop a display.

She can’t stop the smile that grows on her face as Will gets slapped in the back of the head by one of the women there, her fierce attitude clear in her reprimanding as Will shrugs his shoulders and offers excuses. Killian’s shit-eating grin at the scene is hard to miss, especially as Will sighs in defeat and pulls out his wallet, and as he takes a swig of his water bottle, Killian catches her eye.

Her breath hitches in her throat and she finds it hard to swallow. It’s like there’s an electric current dancing along a wire connecting the two of them, tingling her skin beneath the surface. Her eyes follow the sight of his tongue as it sneaks between his lips to catch the water residue. He clearly swallows and when her eyes drift up his face to meet his, she sees the black of his pupils swallowing the blue coloring.

“Got it!”

Emma jumps at the sound of Ruby’s voice and turns quickly.

“Need a minute?” Ruby teases, raising an eyebrow and tilting her head in Killian’s direction. Emma swallows and shakes her head.

“Sorry, what do you have?”

Ruby takes one of her hands from behind her back and offers a Santa hat out to her. Emma eyes it, popping an eyebrow in question. “Uh, I am not giving my son a Santa hat for Christmas.”

“No, the hat’s for you.”

“I am not wearing a Santa hat. I just want to get a gift for my kid. If you can’t help out then –”

Ruby rolls her eyes and thrusts the hat towards her. “Don’t be a grinch. Have a little Christmas spirit – it won’t kill you. Wear the hat, then you’ll get the gift.”

The two of them stand in a stare-down for a few moments until Ruby smirks and tilts her head, pride already making its way onto her features before Emma even concedes.

She knows that Ruby means business. Her confident swagger nearly fills the store and Ruby knows just how desperate she is. With a frustrated sigh, Emma hastily grabs the hat from Ruby’s hand and shoves it on her head, frowning. “There. Now the gift?”

“Thanks for playing along,” Ruby begins, her voice taking on the tone of a game show host announcing the grand prize. “For that, you will receive…”

Everything else Ruby is saying fades to the background as she reveals what she’d been hiding behind her back.

Five packages of blank comic panel pages, each package representing different, commonly used templates for comic-books. There’s nearly 200 pages total in her hand and Emma could practically cry at how perfect the gift is. Her son – her incredibly brilliant and creative son can actually create his own comic with ease.

“I didn’t even know anyone made these,” she whispers in amazement, her hands gently, hesitantly, shakily, taking the packages from Ruby.

“I’m not the one you should thank.” Ruby’s smile is pointed yet gentle as she gestures over the Killian. A quick look over her shoulder and Emma sees the way he’s half listening to the conversation at his side between Will and the woman from before. Instead, he keeps trailing his eyes back over to her and even from afar, she notices the vested interest etched in the way his eyebrows lift as he watches them.

Ruby’s voice breaks her gaze.

“How did you guys meet?”

“Uh,” Emma starts before she shakes her head. “He’s my Uber driver, actually.” Ruby remains unconvinced and unsatisfied.

“Really? Just your driver?” She points her deep red nails, gesturing between Emma and Killian as their eyes catch again. “That’s what you’re going with?”

The half-shrug that comes from her lifted shoulder is sheepish. Heat rises to her cheeks and Emma feels as if she’s been transported back to middle school talking about her crush at a sleepover. Not that she did any of that, but she imagines this must have been what it felt like.

“Well… he was just my Uber driver. Now I’m not so sure.”

Ruby offers her an encouraging smile and grabs a bag from behind the counter as they leave the area. When Emma twice tries to pay, Ruby brushes her off. “My little Christmas gift to you,” she says. There’s no pity or guilt in Ruby as she says the words and Emma struggles to say anything other than a cracked thanks.

People always wanted something in return. Nothing is done for free. If someone offers you something, it’s because they want you to owe them a favor or they’re using you to assuage their own guilt.

At least, that’s the take Emma had before the start of the night.

Then Killian gave up a night of potentially heavy cash flow and became her… friend. Now Ruby is joining the ranks too, helping her make Christmas special for her kid. If she hadn’t met Killian, she’s sure her pride would’ve been a lot harder to swallow to accept such a gesture.

When they make it to the party, Ruby rushes over, pulling the hand belonging to the woman who gave Will a dressing down, and steps under the mistletoe. “Merry Christmas, Mulan,” Ruby whispers. The party start a cheer, noisemakers and chants of ‘Kiss! Kiss!’ filling the store. Emma meets Killian’s eye between Ruby and her lover and they share a grin before the kiss blocks them from each other.

Ruby eventually detaches herself from the kiss and introduces Emma to her fiancée Mulan. Between the two of them, they convince her to stay an extra half hour so she can enjoy the party.

“You can always join our poker game tonight too,” Mulan offers. Her face gives nothing away but there’s something in her voice that tugs at Emma’s warning bells.

“Babe,” Ruby says with a sigh. “We’re trying to make a good impression on Killian’s… friend. We can’t do that if you’re robbing her blind.”

“She’ll count every penny too!” Will adds around a mouthful of cheesecake. “Stole $350 from me wallet already tonight.”

“You owed me that.”

Ruby cuts in, “Wait, you paid her but you still haven’t paid me?!”

“You’re practically married, it’s all the same now!”

“Actually –”

“So,” Mulan cuts in, drowning out Will and Ruby. She compromises, eyeing Emma with a calculating gaze. The woman reminds her of a general in the army, observing the enemy and coming up with at least three strategies to ensure their defeat. “I’ll give you a month. Expect an invite. Bring enough cash not to disappoint.”

Before Emma can accept or decline the invitation – though she has no clue what answer would’ve come out of her mouth – Killian appears at her side. “Bloody hell, Ruby. I leave you to warm up my car and you’re already letting your fiancée take Emma for all she’s worth?!”

There’s no malice in his voice, just a thinly veiled teasing tone, and Emma suppresses a grin at the eye rolls and groans from his reprimand that fill their small group. “I guess that’s my cue,” Emma says instead, backing up. “You coming, Will?”

Will shakes his head. “I’m going to give these lovely ladies the privilege of my presence on their couch tomorrow morning.” His wide grin breaks at the slap on the back of his head from Mulan, but neither her nor Ruby do anything to stop Will.

Wishes of merry Christmases fill the room and soon enough, Emma and Kilian find themselves heading towards the shop’s exit.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” The gentleness of his voice, the care in which he takes with her mission, lights a fire in her chest.

Her smile is wide even if her voice is quiet and soft. “Thank you. Seriously. It’s going to blow his mind.”

Killian’s response is cut off by loud cheers and chants of ‘Kiss! Kiss!’ They both turn a curious glance over at the crowd, ready to see who the latest couple caught by the random sprig of mistletoe is, only to find the crowd already staring back at them. Her head slowly tilts back and her mouth drops open, dumbfounded.

It feels fated, almost, the way that she’s found herself under the mistletoe with the one man who’s been able to turn her world inside-out in just a night. The universe is pushing them together and for once in her life, she agrees with it.

“Please,” Killian scoffs, addressing the group. It becomes clear to her quickly that he’s trying to give her an out or a reason to jump. His statement offers her the choice and that’s what does it. Well, that and his next sentence leave no other option for her competitive side. “She couldn’t handle it.”

Then he turns to her with that wide, victorious smirk and she wishes to wipe it right off his face, the smug bastard. No matter the choice she makes, he still wins. So she does the only logical thing to do in the situation.

She lays the bag with the comic pages on the display stand behind her. Her eyes remain locked on Killian’s the entire time and she can tell that he’s itching to swipe his thumb across his lip.

Then her resolve crumbles to nothing and she grasps the lapels of his leather jacket and tugs him forward.

Their lips meet in a slow, hesitant kiss despite the passionate start to their embrace. The moment Emma sighs, relaxing slightly as her mouth remains pressed against Killian’s, Killian takes advantage. He moves with confidence and familiarity. The taste of his mouth is new but the way his fingers tangle in her hair feels like his hand is always supposed to cradle her head there.

It’s exhilarating and intoxicating all at once. The sounds of the party fade to nothing and the only thing she can hear other than her racing pulse in her ear is the way Killian sighs and groans as they kiss. It’s delicious and tempting and she wants it to stay imprinted on the forefront of her mind.

The spell is cracked, not broken, when they pull apart.

Emma’s left in a daze, not registering a single moment of their final goodbyes before she’s buckled back up in Killian’s car and waiting for him to pull away from the curb.

Despite their bubble splintering at the store, a crackle of electricity, a simmering heat, still rises beneath the surface. It’s so palpable she can almost taste it. She can’t let him leave her yet. Not without another taste. Especially when he looks so unfairly good in the Santa hat bestowed on him at the store.

Killian starts their route to her place and Emma can’t bear to say goodbye to him when they pull up. Her mind flitters to the to-do list she wrote that morning and all the things she needed or should be doing for the holiday. The few remaining gifts she had to wrap, the food she had to prepare for tomorrow, and the cookies left unmade. All of the ingredients in her cabinets are new and purchased for a single holiday. She’ll never get through all of it by tomorrow.

Swallowing hard, Emma turns in her seat and looks at Killian. “What’re your plans for the rest of the holiday?”

He licks his lips before he answers, his mouth as dry as hers suddenly feels. “Just heading home to watch a few films on the telly.”

“How do you feel about making sugar cookies?” It only takes a moment for the question in his gaze to disappear, giving way to a bright grin. Her heart flutters at the sight and instead of fretting, she lets out a deep breath and relaxes her shoulders.

The house is warm when they enter. Henry’s new gift is placed aside to be wrapped once the cookies are in the oven. Their fingers linger longer than necessary as they help each other tie their aprons, a twinkle in Killian’s eyes as he raises an eyebrow when Emma’s hand slides a little too low once she’s finished.

“Fair game,” is what he whispers to her as he trails his hand up her side before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He leans down to place a soft kiss on her lips only for them to lose themselves in the action. Their Santa hats fall to the ground, not that either of them notice. The slight flour that got on Emma’s hand from pulling down ingredients before now runs a white streak through one side of Killian’s hair and he returns the favor once they actually start cooking.

She gets mesmerized by the way he uses his stump – brace off and arm washed clean – to knead the dough better than she’s ever been able to. It takes a near monumental effort to concentrate on the cookies and not what else he might be capable of.

That only lasts until the cookies are in the oven and the timer is set, Henry’s gift laying unwrapped where she left it as Killian proves just what he can do.

They trade lazy kisses once she finally gets around to wrapping Henry’s new gift. Neither of them attempt to repress the smiles that bloom on their faces and it’s the most at peace Emma has felt in possibly her entire life. The only thing that’d make the moment even better, she thinks to herself, would be if her kid were with them.

Perhaps it’s coincidence or luck. Or maybe Christmas magic, as hard as it is to believe, actually does exist. Because it’s not a moment later when, at 11:43pm Christmas Eve night, her phone rings.

“Hey, Mom?” Henry whispers once she picks up.

“Henry?” The hairs on the back of her neck raise in alert and she sees Killian’s posture straighten from beside her on the couch. He makes a quick move to pause Miracle on 34th Street.

“I’m okay,” her kid starts but Emma only feels a small bit of tension leave her shoulders. “I just… I miss you.”

Her heart lurches at his words. “I miss you too,” she whispers back and wills her eyes not to tear. It’s been a long time since they’ve been separated like this but time doesn’t make it easier. “How was your night, kid?”

Henry huff’s out a laugh. “Thanks for the gifts, I know they were your idea. Also, I’m pretty sure half of this stuff is actually his.”

She joins in his laughter with a quick snort of her own. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Yeah…” He pauses and Emma leans back into the couch. Killian raises an eyebrow in her direction as he wraps an arm around her and she merely shrugs. She guesses Henry just wanted to talk. “It doesn’t really feel like Christmas here. Not without you. Can you pick me up? I want to come home.”

“Oh Henry,” Emma whispers again. She makes quick work of the tear that manages to escape and nods her head before she realizes that he can’t see her. “Of course. It’ll take me ten minutes to get there. Start packing up and wake your dad to let him know, okay?”

“Thanks, Mom. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

The moment after they hang up, Emma turns towards Killian and pulls him into a tight embrace, allowing only a few more tears free – the last thing she needs is to let Henry know how emotional their conversation got her.

“You’re right,” she mumbles into Killian’s neck. His hand and stump hold her closer and she feels every worry leave her body with a few strokes.

Killian was right. For as much as she focuses on the material things of the holiday, Henry doesn’t care about the gifts. She’s given him a home, a place of comfort and memories, and that’s what he wants this year. It’s nothing that Neal can provide him and Emma knows that just turning on their Christmas tree and watching Home Alone will be enough.

She glances at the gifts stuffed under the tree in their living room, especially the special new addition, and grins to herself.

The presents don’t hurt either.

Killian helps her to stand as she explains the situation. She can see the offer of a ride sitting on the tip of his tongue but his desire to not overstep holding it back. For most of the night, he’s been making the effort and opening up first. So this time, she resolves, it’s up to her.

With her hand out as an offering, she asks, “You willing to give us a ride?”

Thankfully, a young lad with a mop saves them both the trouble and they’re able to move away from the scene of the accident.

“Seriously, is there anything I can do to repay you for this?”

“It looks like a bit of a rush started while we were distracted. How about keeping me company while we wait?”

Amazingly, she says yes.

“What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t,” she says, smiling but not looking at him. “But it’s Emma. Emma Swan. Resident deputy.”

“Killian Jones,” he offers up, holding out his hand for her to shake it.

“Your brother is Liam,” Emma says, tilting her head as she says it. It’s definitely not a question, means she’s known Liam long enough that she’s probably heard plenty about his degenerate brother. “He talks about you all the time, but I didn’t recognize you.”

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me, eh? None of it is true. Or it all is, depending on what he’s said.”

“Not bad at all, I promise,” she tells him, and they shift closer to the front of the line.

When they’re next, he looks at the state of his shirt, gives one part of it a tentative sniff.

“Frozen hot chocolate, extra whipped cream, and cinnamon on top?”

“What?” Emma responds, giving him a puzzling look but catching the movement when he reaches for his wallet. “Hey, I’m the one that spilled a drink on you. Shouldn’t I be buying you a drink?”

“Not at all. Consider it an act of paying it forward. One day, you’ll return that kindness, aye?”

With an exaggerated eye roll, Emma throws up her hands. “Sure. Why not?”

They part after receiving their drinks, no numbers exchanged, no future plans, and a hint of fate in the winds.

December 1

He’s outside Fairy Fuel again when Emma goes the following week. It’s much later in the day, so she’s surprised to see him again. Killian, her mind provides as she gets closer. She’s known of him for ages through Liam’s stories, but for some reason didn’t know he lived here in Storybrooke.

Maybe she did know, but didn’t realize he would frequent the small, trendy coffee shop that focused more on specialty beverages over the plain, black coffee at Granny’s. Not that there was anything wrong with that coffee - or Granny’s hot chocolate for that matter - she just sometimes craved the different scenery. The frosty version of her favorite beverage was another perk, of course.

Emma crosses the street when she reaches the corner, and looks to see if he’s moved at all. He’s standing under the recessed doorway, trying to keep dry as the sky liberally pours down. She’s lucky that she has an umbrella, but other than the same leather jacket she saw him in last week, Killian doesn’t seem to be prepared for the weather.

“Back again?” she asks as she approaches, closing and shaking off her umbrella as she ducks under the same spot he’s in.

“Ah, hello again! Just trying to wait for it to clear up a little before I’m on my way. And you, Swan? Back to spill another drink down my front?”

“Not quite. At least, I hope not,” she adds, in hopes of not tempting the fates. She shuffles awkwardly for another moment, finally reaching for the door. “Well, see you later.”

She doesn’t wait for a response before she bolts inside.

He’s still out there when she comes back out, staring at the sky as if wishing it to dry up so he can step out and go about his day. It’s that expression that finally leads her to her next offer.

“Hey, Killian. Do you want to - do you want to share this?”

She’s indicating to her closed umbrella, which is sizable for the both of them. He looks at her, looks down at the item in her hand, and then smiles. She stifles her own smile, and steps out as she opens the bright material over both their heads.

“Where are you heading?”

“The library on Main. There’s a book I’ve been searching for and heard there might be a copy,” he tells her, trying to stand close but not too close as they walk down the sidewalk.

She makes a noise to acknowledge that she’s heard him but otherwise stays quiet, focusing more on the bump of his shoulder against her own and staying out of puddles too deep. There’s a hole in one of these boots and she doesn’t feel like being waterlogged the rest of the day.

“You?”

“Work,” she says back. “I have to stop in at the station and help my brother with something even though it’s my day off.”

“Just glad I’m right on your route, then,” Killian responds. This time when he smiles at her, Emma can’t help but smile back.

It’s a lot of small chit-chat as they walk along. Somewhere on the walk, Killian’s shoulder had contacted hers but he hadn’t moved away again, instead huddling a little closer so as not to get wet - that’s what she’s telling herself, anyway.

When it’s time for them to part ways, Emma’s almost sad to see him go. This is all so new - it’s been years since she’s taken any kind of interest in another person, romantically or otherwise. But there’s some bond between her and the man next to her. It’s something that was there even before she ran into him with her full drink. It was there when Liam would talk about his brother, this tugging on her heart and soul that felt like she should know him.

Of course, Killian doesn’t know about any of this. Besides maybe a general idea of their small law-enforcement team, he probably didn’t even know she existed before last week.

He lingers in the back of her mind for the rest of the day, and try as she might, she can’t seem to shake him loose. There are worse people you could be thinking about, Emma thinks as she walks through the station doors to David’s greetings.

December 10

She feels it before it happens. It’s that instability, that first slip that doesn’t really feel like a slip but also bodes a bigger slide is on the way. She feels her shoe give beneath her on what was clearly black ice and then her whole body is trying to overcorrect, but then there are arms around her waist.

“I’ve got you,” a familiar voice says, but she only feels relief for a half a second. “Oh bloody hell, no I don’t.”

“Fuck!” Emma exclaims as she makes contact partially with the ground and partially with Killian.

She can’t move for a moment, stunned by the sudden impact, but then she starts laughing as soon as she knows nothing on her is truly damaged.

“Well, I guess I know how you felt when I knocked you over a couple weeks ago,” she wheezes out, rolling just enough to look at him.

He has that same stunned look on his face as he assesses his limbs, making sure his hook is still tightly attached. As her words sink in, a smile comes to his face and he collapses back to the ground for a moment, laughing at first and then groaning when it clearly causes some kind of unseen pain.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Swan. My ribs can’t take anymore bruises.”

“Buy you a coffee to make up for it?” Emma says, struggling to her feet and turning to hold out her hand to help him up.

“Deal,” Killian responds as he takes her hand.

This time, they end up at Granny’s, and while she buys his coffee, they each pay for their own lunches. It’s over an hour later when Emma realizes she was supposed to be back at the station.

David, surprisingly, hadn’t even texted her to ask where she was. When she rushes back in, he explains that he saw her sitting at one of the booths in front of the windows at Granny’s and decided she needed the break.

“Plus, it looked like you were having a fun lunch with Killian. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“David.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t do that. What is this about?”

“Nothing! You just looked… happy.”

Emma has no response to that. She genuinely was enjoying herself as they talked about shared interests and swapped stories of their brothers. She was having a great time getting to know him, but she was so skeptical of the whole thing. Why him? Why now?

She had no way of knowing what would happen next, or when she’d even see him again. It was all up in the air and left to chance.

December 14

His hand lands on the book seconds before another one is there, now resting on top of his.

“Are you kidding?” he hears her mutter.

“Emma?”

He’s shocked when he looks over to her, trying to figure out why she’s also reaching for a copy of The Tooth Fairy by Graham Joyce when he was sure he was the only one to ever hear of it. He’s watched this copy sit on the shelves week after week, but it was near the bottom of his list and so now is the time, but her hand is there, too.

“Oh, shit, Killian. I didn’t realize it was you!”

“Haven’t you figured it out by now, love? The universe is clearly trying to play matchmaker with us.” He throws in a jump of the eyebrow so she knows he’s kidding, even though he can hear the flirtation in his own voice.

“Clearly,” she repeats with a deadpan tone. There’s something in the way she won’t look at him that tells him to back off, so he gestures to the book.

“You’re also interested in reading this strange little tale?”

“Mary Margaret recommended it to me after Ruby told her about it. We have a bit of a fairy tale obsession.”

“Then by all means,” he starts. “Why don’t you take it first?”

“You take it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, Killian. I’m sure. Go ahead. I have another one I can grab instead.”

“I appreciate it,” he says, rather than fighting her kindness anymore. Instead, he plucks the book from the shelf and lingers for just a moment more. It’s a shot in the dark, but he continues. “Have you had lunch yet?”

“With David and Mary Margaret just a half hour ago,” she says, a tinge of regret in her voice.

“Next time,” Killian responds.

She nods, giving him a real smile this time and half-waving before she wanders away again.

He tells himself that he’s looking for another book to read, even though he’s holding the very one he was searching for, as he lingers in the stacks. He stays long enough to hear Emma’s voice carry from the front desk as she asks Belle to call her when The Tooth Fairy is returned.

He stays there for just a few extra moments, thinking.

December 24

It’s Christmas Eve, well after lunch, when Belle calls to tell Emma that the book has been returned. It’s been over a week since she’s seen Killian and can’t stop thinking about him, but hasn’t made any progress in deciding what she wants to do with that knowledge about herself.

Should she ask Liam? Would he make fun of her if she did? She almost told David, one night. Almost being the key word. How embarrassing is it at thirty years old to talk to your brother about a crush on a guy you barely know outside of reputations and stories of growing pains?

So, instead, she has waffled and pondered and not acted at all, which is right on brand for her.

Given how the last month has gone, however, Emma shouldn’t be surprised when she bursts into the library to escape the giant flakes of snow and almost barrels directly into Killian… again.

“Hi,” she says, her breath whooshing out as if she’d run a marathon.

“Hello, Swan.”

“More books to find?”

“Ah, not really,” he says, scratching behind his ear. “I finished off my list last night.”

“Hey, that’s great!” It’s something he mentioned the one time they had lunch - one of his grand plans from last New Year to read a certain amount of books. “That’s a resolution checked off, right?”

“Aye, and there’s just one more to complete now. I just added it last week.”

“Yeah?”

When exactly did she get so close to him? It’s a thought that passes through her mind along with several other cascading thoughts and questions, like what is he doing here if he dropped off the book, and why does he smell so damn good?

“An act of small and selfish bravery,” he says, his smile kind and warm and everything she didn’t realize she wanted before she met him.

“What’s an act of small and selfish bravery?”

From behind his back he brandishes a single rose, holding it out to her. “Will you go out with me?” he asks, and she realizes that he’s answering his question and completing the goal.

-x-

She says yes, thankfully, and Killian can’t stop grinning as she takes the rose from his hand and raises it to her nose.

They’re about to leave when she yanks him down, her lips pressed against his in a way that seems to stun them both.

“Mistletoe,” Emma whispers as her nose brushes against his, and Killian mentally thanks Belle as he smiles and kisses Emma again. When they break apart this time, Emma is blushing something fierce and he bites his lip to stop himself from dipping back in.

“If I buy you a frozen hot chocolate, are you going to spill it on me again?”

“With how clumsy we both seem to be? You’re just as likely to do it as I am.”

Chapter 1: Not for the first time

Not for the first time, and surely not for the last, Hook woke up in an unfamiliar bed. Light was beginning to filter in through a large, high window. Damn it, he’d fallen asleep. And someone warm, soft and very naked was pressed up against him.He took a moment to appreciate the sensation before setting himself to the problem of how to extricate himself without waking her.

How much had he had to drink last night? The inevitable headache had not yet set in, but he had no very clear memory of how he’d gotten into this bed with this—he managed to pull away far enough to take a glance—blonde creature. And he generally kept his wits enough about him to slip out once the evening’s selection had drifted off. He must have been very drunk indeed.

This was, of course, the exact situation he tried to avoid. She was far too close, her head against his chest, and somehow she’d finagled herself directly into his arms. More than likely, she was the clingy type, and he’d much rather avoid a conversation before he made his exit, and that meant stealth. Somehow his left arm had ended up under her neck. How the hell was he meant to get it out? She’d certainly wake if he accidentally stabbed her with his—his—

Wait. Where—

He lifted his head to look past hers at his left arm. It did not end in a hook. It simply ended. He suddenly felt far more naked than he had a moment ago. He did not remove his hook during a tryst. Women who found the blade’s danger exciting rarely felt similarly about a stump. And where was it? Even his brace had been removed. How drunk, indeed?

Slowly, he maneuvered himself out of the tangle of their limbs. There was a small, protesting sound when he finally made his escape, but she seemed a heavy sleeper.

Controlling his trepidation, Hook stepped onto a surprisingly deep carpet and began the search for his clothes. Perhaps his prosthetic would be somewhere nearby. There were two piles of clothes on the floor, apparently examined in haste, one of which appeared mostly black, although the light in the room remained rather dim. He bent to pick it up and stared at it in consternation. These were not his clothes. The material was softer. Lighter. The coat shorter. No, he’d never worn such a thing. And there was no telltale glint of metal nearby. He cursed in frustration, remembering his intention to be silent only when he heard the rustling of bedsheets behind him.

The woman in the bed groaned, and in a voice ragged from sleep, said, “Babe, what time is it?”

Still naked, didn’t have anything resembling a watch, and a quick glance at the walls did not reveal a clock. Attempting to salvage his quest not to wake her, he murmured, “Terribly early, love. Go back to sleep.”

Completely ignoring his instruction, she pulled herself up on one arm. The blanket slipped off of her chest. She didn’t seem at all embarrassed, after whatever had happened the previous night, so he took the opportunity to look her over. He did eventually even raise his eyes to her face. Her lips were full and looked well kissed-–likely he himself deserved the credit for that. Her eyes, a very pleasant green, sparkled with amusement—perhaps related to how long it had taken his gaze to reach them. Drunk as he’d been last night, he’d had excellent taste. He was beginning to sorely regret his lack of memory.

She smirked slightly at his frank appreciation. “Where you headed so terribly early ?”

He scowled, remembering exactly why he hadn’t left. “Nowhere, without my clothes,” he said, putting an intimidating edge into his voice that cowed near everyone he used it on.

All it earned from her was a full-on grin. “Well in that case, might as well come back to bed, huh?” She patted the bed next to her.

Hook weighed his options. He didn’t remember any pressing appointments he had this morning. On the one hand, the wench had hidden his clothes—and his bloody hook . Bad form. And now she was using his apparent lack of options to keep him in her bed? No, he ought not reward this blatant manipulation. He should demand his possessions and go.

She raised an eyebrow, enticing. He should go.   In his current state of undress, there was no way of pretending disinterest. She was smiling as if she’d already won—she couldn’t be allowed the victory. But… it hardly seemed fair to have, presumably, so thoroughly pleasured this wench and not even get to remember it. He should, surely, be able to escape with a memory.

That was it. He fell onto the bed, onto her, to shake her self-assurance—to give her something that would make her miss him for the rest of her days.

_______

He understood his mistake by the time she was through. Having forgotten the previous night, he had supposed she was some woman he’d seduced. But no common woman–no noble one either–would’ve been capable of that . She could only have been a professional, at the peak of her trade. Like magic, she had known exactly what he wanted. It was as if she could read his mind, as if he’d told her exactly what he liked. She’d known his desires better than he’d known his own.

As they both lay panting, he tried to give her her due. “That was….”

She laughed, a bit breathlessly. “Worth waking up early for.”

It was now, he decided, well and truly time to take his leave.  If she’d taken his clothes, and whatever coin he had in his pockets, she'd certainly earned them. But one thing he did need. “Where the devil is my hook?”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “Is it not in the drawer?” She gestured vaguely toward a table by the bed, just next to him on the side he’d been sleeping. Seeing a drawer, he opened it experimentally. A box rested in it, a dark wood with ornate carvings. Picking it up, he saw that the designs included a ship at sea, flying a skull and crossbones. It opened easily to reveal his hook, fitting perfectly in a compartment on one side, with his brace resting on the other.

He stared for a long moment, tracing the design with his hand, and trying to make sense of its existence. “This is quite the contrivance, love.” He found himself wanting to keep it more than he was willing to admit. What need could she have of such a thing, anyway? He looked at her carefully. “Where did you come upon it?”

She laughed. “What, are you trying to get clues about this year’s? Good effort, but not going to happen. You’ll find out when you see it under the tree. No cheating!”

Not a word of what she’d just said seemed to have any relevance to his question, or any obvious meaning at all. This had to be intentional, and he wasn’t rising to the bait. He dropped the subject entirely. “Well, it’s been a pleasure, love. But I do need to be going, and I’m not sure what I’m expected to wear.”

She grimaced. “OK, so I definitely did the laundry, and I was absolutely planning to put it into the drawers… soon. I know, I know, where you’re from laundry was an all-day activity, and with washing machines it’s so easy. I know when it’s your turn it gets done immediately. But look, it’s all right here in this basket!” With this somewhat baffling sentiment, she gestured to a basket full of clothes. “Here, I’ll just get something for you today and then I’ll put away the rest… later.”

Smiling sheepishly, she pulled some garments out of the basket that looked remarkably like the ones he’d found on the floor. Oh well, at least these ones were clean.

The clothing was simple enough to figure out, but he was more interested to see what she’d put on. Women of every class looked about the same once you got them naked, but how someone dressed gave you a bit more information.Once he had pieced together how his own strange garments were assembled, he turned to her and was… stymied. She wore blue trousers of a material he did not recognize, a tight shirt and a strange short coat of what might have been leather, dyed a shade of red.

Now that the sun had come out, he looked around the room for more hints. The bedsheets, he recalled, had been extraordinarily soft, as was the carpet. He’d have guessed she was a woman of some means, although her expertise indicated how she might have made her money. But he hadn’t a clue what manner of woman dressed like that . He’d have liked to solve this mystery, but it was past time for him to leave. “Well,” he said finally, “it’s been a pleasure, but I really must take my leave of you, Miss…” he waited to see if she’d supply a name.

“Nuh-uh,” she said. “Not without breakfast. Just because Henry’s not here doesn’t mean we stop being good examples.” She gave him a wink, as if that was supposed to mean something to him.

He wanted out , but… after this morning and, presumably, last night, he certainly needed to replenish his strength. Well, if the woman wanted to make him breakfast, he supposed he could accept.

She leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek–he really did need to leave, before the woman started having expectations— and bounded downstairs.

Hook followed more slowly, taking a moment to look around. There were pictures on the walls. One in particular arrested him. A wedding. Hers. Unmistakeable. Somehow, he hadn’t gotten the sense of infidelity from her. It certainly wasn’t something he had a particular problem with, but he could usually tell. The portrait was… strange. He couldn’t see brushstrokes. It was almost like looking through a window. She looked so… happy, in the picture. Reluctantly, he moved his eyes to the side, to her husband. He looked quickly away again, as if burned, after just a glimpse of dark hair and a pathetically besotted smile. The poor bastard. He’d certainly seen it before, but something about the man’s face, even briefly seen, made it difficult to gloat.

Perhaps she was a widow? Somehow, that didn’t feel right. There’d been no grief about her. He thought back to their interactions. Just because Henry’s not here … No, that was certainly it. The husband was away, and the wife hopped into bed with the first dashing pirate she saw. He didn’t normally judge a woman for such a thing, but in that brief glimpse of the wedding picture he’d allowed himself, he’d had a moment of…sympathy? No… pity. He didn’t seem a sniveling coward keeping his treasure of a wife in a hovel, cursing her with his own reputation. The woman in the picture had glowed with joy. He wondered briefly what had gone wrong in their marriage to cause her to sneak around. A woman like that was probably difficult to satisfy.

He considered taking another look at the picture, but something deep inside of him rebelled.

He allowed himself brief glances at a few more pictures. The blonde woman and another man and woman, unmistakably a couple. The blonde woman and a dark-haired woman he instantly disliked–he didn’t look at her for too long. Something about her face hit him the wrong way. The two of them were hugging a boy. He looked at the child a bit longer, something striking a chord in him. Was the blonde woman the mother, or the brunette? Suddenly, thoughts of Baelfire entered his mind, until he forcibly shook them out. Forget breakfast–he needed to leave.

But between him and the front door was the woman, who’d set a place for him at the table, and the aroma of bacon and eggs was difficult to ignore. He wasn’t sure how the bacon was ready so fast—perhaps the cook had been working on it while they’d been upstairs. He hoped her servants were discreet, although this likely wasn’t the first time. They’d certainly made themselves scarce–he hadn’t seen a hint of a person in the house other than the two of them. Perhaps they were changing the sheets before the husband returned.

He glanced around the room. No pictures in here, at least. The setup was strange—in this room, there were large box-shaped objects all around, one of which she had just closed, and in the room he’d just walked through there appeared to be a small tree with baubles on it. He supposed that was how they set up their houses in… his mind stopped short, unable to recall which port he was in.

The woman was smiling at him expectantly. Without conscious consideration, he sat down at the table and lifted a fork.

“So,” she said, “what are your big plans today that you absolutely had to wake up for?”

His big plans, as she put it, involved leaving port as soon as possible, but he was reluctant to say so. This woman seemed to think she had some sort of right to his plans. She might take offense to the fact that he’d be gone forever before the sun set again. “Just… checking on things,” he evaded.

Her eyes widened with interest. “Things related to a certain… event… a week away?”

He frowned. What was a week away? He tried to calculate. If today was… he stopped short. What was the date, again? Worry began to set in in earnest. He looked away from the woman, trying to remember… remember…

“Okay, I get it,” she said, laughing. “No hints from me means no hints from you.”

The woman was very pretty, Hook decided, but at least half of what she said was nonsense. And something was nagging at him about what she’d said during this morning’s festivities…He’d been too preoccupied with the sensations to take any particular note of her words, but…

He ate the food she’d set in front of him with his mind elsewhere.

When he became aware that she’d been speaking, it was clearly not the first time she’d spoken. “Hellooo? Earth to Killian? We got an early start but I am actually going to be late if I don’t head out.”

“Right,” he said, trying to shake himself from his reverie. Late to what , he wondered idly, but that wasn’t quite what had bothered him. “I’d best head out myself.” Good, something about this place was getting to him. The sooner he was back on the Jolly, the better.

He stepped out the door before her, so she could lock up, and looked around the world. There was a strange sense of wrongness to everything. The houses looked… unusual. There were one or two people on the street in strange garb, more or less like what the blonde wore–like what he wore. And there was a large yellow… thing in the yard that–

Hook cursed loudly as something sped by faster than anything had any right to go.

“Hey! You ok, babe?” the blonde woman asked.

She seemed so completely unfazed that he was loath to admit to a moment’s fear. “Of course,” he lied. There was a tense moment where she considered whether to accept his answer. With as wide of a smile as he could muster, he said “Well. Goodbye, then.”

She hesitated a moment longer, and finally leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Walking away from him as he stood, a bit dazed, she called “Love you!” over her shoulder, and opened what turned out to be a door on the yellow monstrosity. He watched as it started to move, and before he knew it, the thing was out of sight.

After another moment of standing still, looking after her, wondering what she’d meant by “love,” he finally started to make his way in a direction he hoped was toward the docks, staying to the side where the surprisingly large, incredibly loud, remarkably fast abominations were not.

It was just as he caught sight of the sea–indeed in the direction his instincts had taken him, that he figured it out. What was strange about her words in bed, and her words to him when he’d been distracted this morning.

When Emma awoke on Christmas morning, she did not feel merry and bright like the rest of the world. Although she was woken by the sounds of her sweet little Hope yelling, “It’s Christmas! Get up! Santa came!”, Emma knew she was in for a rough Christmas based on the way her head pounded and her body ached.

She tried to breathe in to power through it, the action caused her to cough deeply. It was a deep and awful sound; her chest, throat, and head all hurt with the action.

Groaning, she rolled over onto her stomach to bury her face in her pillow as tears of frustration and sadness began to build in her eyes.

While it wasn’t the first time she had been sick on Christmas Day in her lifetime, it still didn’t stop the sting of sadness that coursed through her.  She let out a sniffle, though she wasn’t sure it was from the sadness or from her runny nose.

A warm hand settled on her back, rubbing it gently. “Love?” her husband asked worriedly, kissing the top of her head. “Everything all right?”

Emma rolled over to look up at him, unable to help her pout. “I don’t feel well,” she croaked out. She closed her eyes when Killian leaned down to kiss her forehead, and she was able to give him a little smile.

“I’m here,” Killian murmured, opening his arms to her and she gladly curled into them. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead yet again, though he did frown somewhat. “Emma, you’re burning…”

“Thanks, babe, you’re hot too,” she mumbled tiredly. She felt the vibration of her husband’s chuckle against her skin, and she cuddled up against him even more. His hand wove its way through her hair and she nearly drifted off again at the action alone.

“Do you want tea, love?” he murmured, his lips against her temple. “And some medicine? See if we can’t cut this thing off at the pass?”

“My hero,” she rasped drowsily, her eyes already fluttering shut. “Do you think you can get our daughter to stop from tearing into all the presents?”

“Mmm, a keeping seven-year-old from her presents on Christmas morning? Highly unlikely.”

The little pitter patter of feet sounded from downstairs as if Hope was running from one side of the house to the other just to entertain herself. While Emma was admittedly thankful that Hope had chosen not to go up and down the stairs to expend some of her boundless energy, each footstep caused her head to pound.

“All right, let me make you some tea, see if we can’t settle our little Christmas beast,” Killian murmured affectionately, planting a quick kiss to her lips.

“Babe, no, you’ll catch this,” Emma whined, rolling onto her back as she looked up at him.

Killian merely smiled down at her before leaning in for another kiss. “So, I catch it and be miserable together,” he replied with a shrug, getting out of the bed. He made sure to pull the covers back over her and headed downstairs.

Emma smiled a little bit wider at the love her husband showed her and nearly fell back asleep as she waited for him to come back. The door opened and she picked her head up weakly.

Killian stood there with a cup of tea in one hand and Hope perched on his back. “Hi, Mama. Merry Christmas,” Hope murmured softly as she flopped down onto the bed. “Papa said you weren’t feeling so good and I had to be real quiet.”

“Oh, Cygnet,” Emma murmured tiredly. “Merry Christmas.” She reached out and brushed some of her daughter’s hair from her face. “Papa is going to give me some medicine and I should be all better soon.” She smiled at her daughter. “I love you very much. Mama’s okay. And we can celebrate Christmas like normal, huh?”

“Okay! I love you too!” Hope said brightly and even though the sound lanced through her head, Emma didn’t dare let it show on her face. Killian frowned though and kissed Emma’s temple again.

“All right, up you get,” Killian said affectionately, helping Emma sit up as he handed her a cup of tea. “Why don’t I get some medicine from the bathroom?” His voice turned up in excitement as he added to their daughter, “Cygnet, why don’t we open presents in bed?”

Hope’s eyes sparkled as if the idea had never occurred to her. The little girl gasped excitedly, “We could be comfy and open presents, Papa!”

“Indeed we could, little love,” Killian chuckled.

“But I might need some help with the bigger presents though,” Hope realized, her face puckering adorably as she frowned. Turning to Emma, the little girl said assuredly, “Santa brought some very big presents, but I don’t know who they’re for!”

Killian was still grinning as he ruffled Hope’s hair. “Let me get Mummy’s medicine and then I’ll help you bring up the presents, all right?”

“Okay, Papa!”

Emma couldn’t help but beam as she watched her daughter light up and race downstairs. Killian kissed Emma’s forehead and gently stroked her cheek. “Thanks for taking such good care of me,” she told him, kissing his palm.

“As if taking care of you is such a hardship, love,” he replied adoringly, pressing his forehead to hers. His thumb gently brushed along her cheekbone. “You know I’d do anything for you, yeah? Whether it be Christmas Day or otherwise.”

Emma laughed, letting out a little cough with the action. “I know,” she said tenderly. “And it’s gonna be the same for you when you end up catching this from me, Killian.”

He smiled a little salaciously at her, given that their child was not in the room. “Well, I’ll never say no to you playing nursemaid, love.” He winked at her, and she let out a cough of a laugh again. Frowning, he rubbed her back gently until the coughing fit subsided. “I’ll go get you the medicine, love, I’ll be right back.”

True to his words, he was back in a moment, pressing some cold and flu tablets into her hand. She smiled gratefully up at him, and he responded in turn by pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. A loud thud sounded from downstairs. There was a pause and then a little voice piped up, “I’m okay!”

“Take your medicine while I go help our Cygnet, yeah?” Killian murmured. “Captain’s orders.”

“Far be it from me to disobey my Captain.” Emma smirked at him, and given the wiggle of her husband’s eyebrow in return, she knew he too was recalling some times when she had done just that.

“You, Emma,” he growled a little bit, playfully nipping at her lips. “Are in for it my love, but only when you are fully recovered from this illness that plagues you.”

“Is that a promise?” Emma asked huskily, trying very hard not to cough in her husband’s face.

“Aye. So it’s all the more incentive for you to get well, love.” He finished this sentiment by sweetly kissing the top of her head before he turned around to head downstairs to help Hope carry the presents from under the tree.

Emma sat up in bed a little bit and sipped at her tea. While she waited for him to return, Emma ruminated on how different it was from Christmases past. She recalled a Christmas in foster care when she had the flu and she had been left to fend for herself. Another Christmas with a cold as she slept in the Bug, shivering under blankets to try and stay warm and not get any sicker. The memories made the sight of her husband and daughter return into the room holding presents in their arms all the sweeter.

She hoped that it would be enough to defeat this Christmas cold.

--

A few hours saw Emma all the poorer, despite how well she tried to hide it. Despite taking the medicine, Killian could see how his wife winced at the lights in their bedroom. How her hand went to her temples every time she tried to hide it when Hope’s back was turned. How she reached for the tissues what seemed to be every few minutes just to blow her nose.

Despite her protestations, he still held her in his arms, knowing all the winters she had been without comfort or care, and was determined to show it to her now. And even still despite her protestations, he could tell how much it meant to her as she relaxed in his hold.

They spent the morning opening presents and watching Christmas movies and cycled through each of their favorites. Hope was quite partial to the Muppets and Killian truthfully had to admit the same, especially given how many times she had watched this movie ad nauseum before Christmas.

Emma simply chose Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer this year, though normally her favorites were either the lad named Charlie Brown or the story about the George Bailey fellow. But it was clear as they watched Rudolph that Emma just needed something she could easily sleep through that wouldn’t take up too much attention.

Still, the time drew nearer for them to head off to her parent's farm, and Emma still seemed no better. And he wasn’t entirely sure what to do about it.

Christmas was Emma’s favorite holiday, and the holiday was all the better for being able to celebrate it with her and their children.

“Why don’t I just stay home for Christmas?” Emma asked against his neck when it was clear she would be unable to rally for the day’s festivities. “No point in getting everyone else sick, right?”

“Aye, just me then?” he teased her, in spite of the worry blossoming in his chest. She must have sensed it for she looked up at him and gently took his hand. “Are you sure, love? I hate to leave you alone on Christmas.”

“Not the first time I’ve been alone and sick on Christmas in my life. One more year won’t kill me,” Emma said with a shrug and that did not make him feel better if truth be told. “Besides, Hope loves going to my parents’. I’m sure she won’t mind that I’m not there.”

“If you’re sure,” Killian replied, kissing her forehead again as he held her close.

“Yeah, ‘m sure. Go enjoy Christmas.” Emma nodded sleepily, cuddling back to him. He let her rest for a little while longer before tucking her in and getting Hope ready for Christmas day. As he showered and got dressed, helped his daughter get lean, and pick out her own Christmas outfit, it felt less and less right for him to do this without her. Still, she needed her rest, and he was loathed to deprive her of it, even if it was Christmas.

As he loaded up the car with the presents, Hope suddenly stopped on the front step of their home. “Papa?” she asked, turning back to look at the house. “Is Mama not coming?” She frowned as she looked up, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

Killian sighed, scooping up his daughter in his arms. “I’m afraid not, Cygnet,” he sighed. “She’s not feeling well…”

“Okay,” Hope replied, hanging her head lowly as he carried her to the car. The light seemed to melt from her eyes like snow on a particularly warm day.

And it was only when they were about halfway to Snow and David’s when he looked in the rearview mirror to see tears rolling down her little cheeks. He pulled over the car immediately so he could park it and turn around to look at her. “Cygnet?” he asked worriedly. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“We left Mama alone on Christmas!” she cried, reaching for him. Killian quickly unbuckled Hope from her car seat and lifted her up so she could wrap her little arms around her neck. “Mama will miss eating the Christmas cookies and those are her favorite, Papa! And she’ll be all by herself and we are all together and I don’t like it!”

Killian’s heart somehow both broke and grew at his little girl’s worry for her mother. In truth, he still was not comfortable with leaving his wife alone on Christmas either, given he knew just how deep her childhood wounds tend to run on the holidays.

And suddenly, he was struck with a flash of inspiration.

He smiled down at his daughter, tilting her chin up so he could tap her nose gently. “Never fear, little love. A good captain always takes care of his crew, aye?”

“Aye aye!” she affirmed with a nod of her head. Her curls bounced around her as she did and she laughed, heartily kissing her forehead.

“I have an idea, so Mummy won’t be alone on Christmas,” he whispered conspiratorially to her, winking as he did so. “Do you want to help?”

Hope nodded eagerly. “Yes, but only if you tell me what it is so I can help,” she answered sagely.

Killian laughed and began whispering the plan in Hope’s ear, even though there was no one else in the car.

“Should I text your brother?” he finally asked once he’d told her the plan.

“Yes, because it won’t be Christmas without Henry!” she answered, horrified at the notion of not celebrating with her oldest brother.

“Okay, let’s get in touch with Henry, and then we can get…uhh…Operation…uhhh…”

“White Christmas,” Hope offered.

“Aye, White Christmas indeed!”

--

While she wasn’t feeling one hundred percent better, Emma had to admit that the medicine was doing its job. She at least had the energy to move from the bed to the couch downstairs. Turning on the Christmas tree and some music, Emma tried not to feel too lonely without the normal sounds of Killian’s laughter or Hope’s excited chatter, Henry’s voices while he told stories to all the children, and her parents arguing over the cranberry sauce.

In truth, she hadn’t felt like a Lost Girl in so long that the resurgence of those feelings caused tears to prick at the corner of her eyes. She took the heel of her hand to rub at her eyes.

This is so stupid! she thought, sniffling all the while. You’re not abandoned, you’re not alone…everyone will probably call you in a little bit to see how you’re feeling. It’s fine, Emma. You’re fine.

But in truth?

Emma just missed her family on Christmas Day.

And no sooner did she have that thought that the front door swung wide open, rattling as it hit the wall. Her magic flared to life as she coughed, but it was only Hope bounding back in. “Hi, Mama!”

“Hi, baby,” she rasped confusedly. She looked over at the clock. It had only been an hour at most that Killian had left for her parents’ house. Surely they hadn’t had dinner already?

Behind her was Henry, grinning at his mom. “Hey, Mom.” He came over and gave her a quick hug before going to wipe his hands down with hand sanitizer. “Heard you weren’t feeling so hot.”

Killian was last to come in, four stacks of deep trays piled high in his arms. The trays themselves were not massive, but it looked as if they could hold a lot of food.

Tears came to her eyes, but it was no longer feelings of loneliness and sadness that fueled them. “What’s all this?” she giggled, wiping at her eyes as she looked at her husband.

“Why, it’s Christmas dinner, of course!” he declared, nodding at Henry to go get a small table to set up in front of the couch for Emma. He came over and kissed Emma’s forehead, putting down the four dinners on the floor for just a moment. “Can’t have those young wounds linger on Christmas, eh?” He tapped her nose and she laughed, burying his face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and against her hair admitted quietly, “Truthfully, love? It’s not Christmas for us without you. And even if it means we suffer your cold after this, I’d say it’s well worth it. And if you’re uncomfortable, we’ll move far enough apart that you won’t have to worry about us all. But we couldn’t have you be alone on Christmas. We love you too much for that.”

She let out a small hiccupping sob against his chest, and she could feel her husband’s worry for her increase. “Love, is that all right?” he asked, trying to dip his head down to make eye contact with her.

“Killian, it’s perfect,” Emma sniffled, laughing as she brushed away her tears. She cupped his cheek gently in her hands. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

She noticed Killian give Henry a wink but couldn’t think on it further as Hope put a plate in front of Emma, and her family began making sure her Christmas dinner plate was piled high.

“Babe, I’m pretty sure this is enough to feed like three people,” she laughed, pretending to peek around her plate so she could look at Killian.

Her husband smiled patiently, even as he helped Hope set up her plate. “Then I must be doing Christmas dinner right.” Then, he frowned as if thinking of something. “Unless the food’s too hard on your stomach right now, love?”

“I’m perfect,” Emma assured him as Henry tucked a blanket around her and handed her a mug of tea.

“When’s the last time you took some medicine?” Henry asked, looking down at her.

“This morning, Dr. Henry,” she teased her son, but she couldn’t help but smile as Henry nodded firmly and walked upstairs to get Emma some more medicine. When he came back down, she hugged him tightly. “Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

“And I love you too, Mama!” Hope assured her mother loudly from the other side of the room. Emma laughed and blew a kiss in Hope’s direction. “I love you too, baby!”

The Swan-Jones family ate in the living room, talking and laughing loudly, sharing stories from the year and fun anecdotes from living in the United Realms, even if Emma’s remarks were sometimes punctuated by coughs or sneezes.

As dinner wound down, Emma stretched out on the couch, closing her eyes contently. “Man, what I wouldn’t give for some of my Dad’s pumpkin pie. You didn’t bring any of that, did you?” She didn’t open her eyes, but heard her husband say, “’fraid not, love, but I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”

Mmmm…well leftover pumpkin pie is good too, Emma decided, settling back into the couch.

She’d nearly dozed off again when she heard the door open and her mother’s voice call, “Sorry we’re late, we had to make dessert packages for everyone who was already at the farm, and it was a whole thing!”

Emma’s eyes flew open and she saw her parents and little brother standing in the doorway, holding various tin foil-wrapped packages in their arms.

“Hope, why don’t we help Gramma and Grandpa put the desserts down?” Henry asked, standing up and taking the dessert from David.

“Okay! I’m a great helper!” Hope declared, following Henry as she always did any time the siblings were together.

David immediately came to Emma’s side, pulling her into a hug while he cupped the back of her head. “How are you feeling, Emma?” he asked softly, rubbing her back a little bit. “Do you need anything? Water? Medicine? Tea?”

“I’m okay, Dad,” she murmured. She caught her husband’s eye as she added, only looking at Killian, “I’m perfect.”

--

It had taken a little while to get his in-laws out of the house for as late as they had come. Both David and Snow had insisted on fussing over Emma since she wasn’t feeling well and for all the eyerolling his wife did, Killian knew she secretly loved it.

He could tell in the blissed-out way she smiled, still laying on the couch on her side. Henry had gone off to Regina’s and Hope had finally taken her Christmas Day nap, sprawled out on the floor while a movie flickered unwatched on the television.

His wife’s eyes watched him expectantly, and Killian knew exactly what that meant. He gently propped Emma up for the briefest of moments before sliding underneath her, so she could use his chest as a pillow. He was rewarded with a delighted hum and her snuggling more into him, as if she could physically get him closer than he already was.

His hand gently began stroking her back, as her hand crept up his chest to rest over his heart. “So, all in all, not a bad Christmas, hmmm?” Killian asked her softly, his lips gentle against the skin of her forehead.

She looked up at him, her eyes glowing with the lights of their Christmas tree. Her mouth was curved in that soft smile he loved so much and couldn’t help but kiss. “Thank you for taking such good care of me today,” she said sincerely. Though while she was not as verbose as he was, he could read every emotion on her face.

But then again, she had always been an open book to him, and he found himself reading the depth of her thanks in appreciation as he looked at her.

“I’ll always be here to take care of you,” he promised her, gently pushing her hair out of her face.

“I know. I’m so incredibly lucky that I have you, Killian.”

“I love you, Emma,” he murmured.

“I love you too,” she replied. “And if you do end up catching this cold from me, I promise I’ll be here to take care of you too,” Emma murmured drowsily, tucked up as tightly against him as his own ribs.